"Hobgoblin" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... that the people of this happy country ought to do any thing rather than submit to have its streets stained with the blood of their monarch. I was in the habit of hearing all the ridiculous stories of invasion, rapine, and murder, and of listening to all the hobgoblin accounts of what we were to expect from our fellow creatures on the other side of the channel, and my young mind was worked up to such a pitch, that I longed to become one of the number of those who were going to resist and to punish ...
— Memoirs of Henry Hunt, Esq. Volume 1 • Henry Hunt
... to recognise that, whatever be their personal convictions, there may be some "soul of goodness" in views diametrically opposed to their own, and, moreover, they must not be scared by what Emerson called that "hobgoblin of little minds"—the charge ...
— Political and Literary essays, 1908-1913 • Evelyn Baring
... that; but you are aware of the blessed interest people about here take in your name. By way of example it might possibly happen that a hobgoblin or a fairy steps in through the keyhole and leads you into temptation. Keep a tight rein on your five senses, that's all. You see what I mean, don't you? Poor servants we ...
— Turandot, Princess of China - A Chinoiserie in Three Acts • Karl Gustav Vollmoeller
... hide. Robin Goodfellow says, "I'll go put on my devilish robes—I mean my Christmas calf's-skin suit—and then walk to the woods." "I'll put me on my great carnation nose, and wrap me in a rousing calf-skin suit, and come like some hobgoblin." And a character of the 18th century "clears the ...
— The Peace Egg and Other tales • Juliana Horatia Ewing
... vile slip of the pen was that! How absurd in me to talk about burying the bones of Byron, who, I have just seen alive, and incased in a big, round bulk of flesh! But, to say the truth, a prodigiously fat man always impresses me as a kind of hobgoblin; in the very extravagance of his mortal system I find something akin to the immateriality of a ghost. And then that ridiculous old story darted into my mind, how that Byron died of fever at Missolonghi, above twenty years ago. More and more I recognize that we dwell in a world of shadows; and, ...
— P.'s Correspondence (From "Mosses From An Old Manse") • Nathaniel Hawthorne
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